The Crow: To love again
by Siniver
Summary: Eric, still lost in his memories, meets a young girl who reminds him of Sarah. When he takes an interest in her well being and realizes the way of life she lives..What happens when he takes action? Chapter 2 up! :)
1. Default Chapter

Summary: When Eric saves a young girl named Mary, he instantly adores her every way of life until he watches the way she lives. What happens when he takes her away?  
  
Note: ^_^  
  
The crickets chirped in their traditional fashion all around Mary and were only drowned out when a car would rush by. The streets were shining in their wet state and the mist of rain continued to tumble from the thick darkness of the sky. The dim light of the nearest street lamp provided enough vision for those eyes, so intense and alert in their own greenish goodness to lock upon her occupation. She dug at the grip tape of her skateboard, peeling and picking at it with a single fingernail, painted in dollar-store quality polish. Her free hand would tug down at the hem of her red hand-me down jacket every so often as the wind seemed intent of ruffling her rags and clothing. Blonde hair, so soft and silken remained obediently in a ponytail while the rest of it was done it quick braids. She wore many necklaces, which wrangled each other in the breeze. She twisted her lips into a frown, eyes shifting a bit to swallow the surrounding buildings. Many were vacant and condemned and a few had burnt down. The alleyway just across the street was jammed with homeless individuals, all huddled around burning garbage bins and half-done shacks made of cardboard and material. She glanced to her right where a canine was busy sniffing a snack from a garbage disposal and to her left; a group of boy's were smoking their no-so-secret weed. She could smell it at her location and her nose twitched a bit. She felt her eyes water with the sensation and she abandoned the business of peeling her grip tape. After a few moments of hesitation, she stood up and propped the skateboard beneath her arm, resting it against her waist as she slid down the sidewalk, hiking her key chain covered backpack up her shoulders a bit. She made no eye contact with the gang that watched her wander and when she did pass a glance, she diverted those green hues to the dank cement sidewalk and scuffed her foot a bit. She wasn't going home.No, that would be suicide.She knew exactly how the conversation would fair.  
  
She would approach the home, which would be dark and unwelcoming. The bathroom light would be dim and flickering from constant use and the porch light would flick on as she opened the door. Any minor movements would be drowned into the heavy-metal music, which was muffled until fully inside the front door. It would pound in her mind and she would peek around the mantel, checking for any sight of her mother or father. If the coast was clear, she would sneak up the peeling stairs, wincing with every creak. The music would die for a moment before picking up with the next song. While that silent pause thrived, she'd peek at the broken frames on the wall, which held pictures of unknown relatives and an autograph her father had received. Once the music was blaring again, she continued her journey down the hallway and towards her room. Then, like he always did, her father would poke his head out of his bedroom and start the conversation slow.  
  
'Where were you?'  
  
She'd linger on the spot, her figure waiting patiently to slip into her bedroom and close the door.  
  
'I asked you a question.'  
  
Then she'd answer. She always did, even if the answer wasn't the greatest.  
  
'I was at William's house.'  
  
She'd pass quick glance over her shoulder, and she'd wait for the reaction. Then she'd get it.  
  
He'd grab her backpack and drag her from the room. Alcohol would soak from his bones and she'd instantly smell it. He'd slam her against the nearest wall and check in his bedroom, to ensure his lovely wife was asleep. He would then smack her around till he got an answer. If she gave a good answer, he'd simply pass it by and demand another one.  
  
Then, after all of this, she would spend a bit of time in the washroom, attending the minor or sometimes large bruises or cuts on her body. She'd then go to bed, crying herself to sleep. She wanted to die. Was this normal? Yeah, what a lovely way to end a night.  
  
So she did this, and her night, as predicted, went just like planned with only a few changes. Her mother had been awake and had done nothing to stop it. The phone had rung a few times and the music wasn't playing very loud.  
  
Now, she lay in her bedroom. It was empty for the most part. She had the necessary furniture and that was it. Nirvana posters laced her bedroom walls and a bunch of books were piled on her shelf. Yeah, she wasn't in here very often because there was hardly any privacy. Yes, this was her life.Charming.wasn't it? 


	2. A meeting

The next day started early. The fire alarm had woken her up she instantly knew that her mother was trying to make breakfast to make up for last night. She often did nice things the next day but Mary knew better then to take them seriously. She would get dressed, her clothes always similar, grab her pack and slide downstairs. She would have a quick shower before her father woke up and she'd quickly leave before anyone could realize she was awake which usually didn't happen until noon.  
  
The New York Street was deserted and empty. This end of town wasn't famous for tourists or anything like that.I mean, look at it. The road was bumpy and broken. Weeds sprouted from the cracks in the sidewalk and the buildings, which laced each side, were broken, boarded or burnt. The sky was thickly covered with smoke coming from a nearby factory and she would catch birds pecking at garbage.  
  
As she kicked at a broken bottle, she noticed something. It was a crow. The bird was watching her in a most creepy way and it caused her to halt. Now, she'd seen plenty of birds, and plenty of crows for that matter.but she'd never seen one blink at her, tilt its head and stare. She nibbled the inside of her cheek a bit, eyes shifting. The bird gave an abrupt caw and fluffed its midnight black feathers before taking flight into a nearby building window. For now, she disregarded it and made her way towards the park. She usually hung out there. It was by far the nicest place on this end of town. People actually took the time to visit and play on the equipment.  
  
Unfortunately, she didn't make it that far.  
  
A hand, thick and menacing fell upon her shoulder and squeezed. She tilted herself sideways a bit, attempting to edge the pressure away. Instead, she was jerked back and hands clamped upon her backpack, tugging her towards the nearest alleyway.  
  
'Let go of me!'  
  
Mary wasn't all-powerful. Sure, she had her ways of defending herself.but she wasn't keen on it. The scent of cheap tobacco and alcohol reminded her fiercely of her father as she was thrown against the nearest wall and searched by the masked man for any possessions he could snatch. She gave a quick cry as he curled his fingers around her necklaces and tugged, which brought her to her knees. He then brought his foot down upon her back and squished her to the dank cement floor. He began to dig through her bag.then it happened.  
  
A flash of feathers and black blurred her vision and the man released a horrid cry of pain. She could hear the bird squawk and caw fiercely at him, digging and swiping its claws at his face and skin. The man dropped many of things and with a final grunt of pain, took off down the street and around the corner.  
  
Mary quickly pushed herself to her knees, fingers fumbling around for the things he had dropped and shoving them into her bag. She feared the crow would turn on her aswell and this only made her move faster.She didn't notice it land and tilt its eerie head again. Not yet. Not until it cawed and she quickly jolted her wide, intense orbs upon it. Her lips parted gently and she brought the back of her hand up to her lip, whipping away a stream of blood, which trickled from the side. She fell silent and frozen.  
  
Then it flew away.Back to that window.  
  
She frowned a bit, sliding the straps of her bag back over her shoulders and hiking it up with a sniffle. She bit her lower lip, running her tongue along the fading streak of blood. She then decided. She was going up there.  
  
The journey was slow and cautious. The building was dusty and dark and rather cold. She feared someone would slide from one of the nearby doorways and grab her.  
  
Luckily, that didn't happen and she reached the final floor only moments later.  
  
The door was closed and she hesitated. She did curl her fingers around the knob and twist it a bit, ensuring it was unlocked. She listened silently, waiting for any sign of movement from the other side. Then she opened it.  
  
That instant, she saw black. The crow flew at her face, squawking and cawing in an almost insane manor. She quickly shielded her face with her fingers and ducked, shuffling herself behind a bunch of upturned chairs. She folded her arms gently around her knees and hugged them to her chest, eyes watering from the proximity of the flash attack and heart pounding out of fear and uncertainty.  
  
Moments passed and the crow had disappeared or fell silent.one or the other. She hadn't moved a muscle and found herself uncomfortable. Her body shook a bit as she began to swallow a sob that had unknowingly crept up her throat. Who would she cry to? Not her father. Not her mother. Not herself. She would sound foolish crying to herself.  
  
Then she felt something. The touch was so gentle and tender, so comforting and curious and above all, protective. She quickly gave a jump, eyes growing wide in their blurred state and she shifted from her spot, instantly settling eyes upon a thin figure. He was tall and scrawny with wet curls of black, which hung around his cheeks in a concealing manor. His clothing was dark and gothic almost.unlike anything she wore or saw before and perhaps the most interesting of all was his pale, white face. His eyes were laced with vertical stripes of black jetting upward and an everlasting smile painted with horizontal stripes on either side of his mouth giving him a rather zombie-ish or clownish appearance despite the frown on his features.  
  
'Its all right.I won't hurt you.'  
  
Oh, she'd heard that before. She quickly shifted her fingers around, holding her weight just above the floor, ready to make a run for it. He began to reach out again, fingertips almost craving to brush against her cheek. She hesitated. She gave a whimper and finally sunk down, eyes lowering with the rest of her childish features towards the floor, wisps of blonde hair falling in a curtain to conceal the tears that fell down her cheeks. 


End file.
